


Caught Up

by theheartbelieves



Category: Fever Pitch (1997)
Genre: First Kiss, Fix-It, Frottage, M/M, Pining Steve, Stirth, oblivious Paul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 06:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theheartbelieves/pseuds/theheartbelieves
Summary: Alternate ending. Paul realises that what he's been looking for in Sarah has been beside him at every Arsenal match.





	Caught Up

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed.
> 
> For Chiara, my partner in all things Stirth.

“Paaaaaaauuuuullll!!!”  
  
The ball sails into the net. They'd won. They'd won!  
  
Paul tackles Steve to the ground and they scream and flail about. Joy floods through Paul. Eighteen fucking years and it had been worth it! Steve flops over onto his stomach on the floor next to him, all smiles. Paul grins up at him, glad that they were here, together, instead of at the match. Sure, it would have been amazing, but he may have walked out. He _probably_  would have walked out. His faith had been that shaken and Steve had kept him on the straight and narrow.  
  
“Aren't you glad you stayed?” Steve asks, shifting closer, propping himself up on his elbows.  
  
“Yes, yes! You were right. Don't rub it in.” They laugh again, happiness too much to contain. It's almost like they'd won the match themselves.

And then Steve leans down and kisses him. Just the briefest press of lips.  
  
Paul pulls back, shocked. It's nearly a friendly kiss. They could laugh it off as that. But the look in Steve's eye is not friendly, it's a proposition and something more, deeper. Paul rolls away, scrambles upright. They weren't like that. They were friends. Mates.

"What- I mean-" He turns, paces, rubs his hands over his face. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm sorry. Sorry. Got caught up," Steve says, climbing much slower to his feet.

"Ok. Ok. Fine. Good." He sits on the couch, scrubs his palms on his thighs. Steve sits down stiffly next to him. "Caught up..."

He shoots a glance at Steve, looks away when Steve looks back. He can feel the man's eyes on him as he stares blankly at the telly. It's nothing but a blur of red and white on the screen. He shifts uncomfortably. His skin feels electrified. For god's sake, man. It had only been a kiss.  
  
A good kiss. Well timed. Paul already regrets not kissing him back. And that thought shocks him more than the kiss itself. This is the last thing he needs, on top of the baby and Sarah and his job. He doesn't need a bloody mid-life crisis or whatever. _Especially_  not with his best friend.  
  
“We should go down. Join the celebration.”  
  
But neither of them move. Paul certainly isn't going to be the one that gets up and walks away. He doesn't want to hurt Steve like that, but... what other course of action does he have? He stays still, paralysed.

"What if-?" Steve says. “What if I didn't?”  
  
“Didn't what?” Paul asks, resolutely not looking over. Stubborn even as Steve scoots closer, leg pressing against his own.  
  
“What if I didn't get caught up? What if I've wanted to do that for a very- long- time?”  
  
He realises he's breathing hard as Steve's arm slides along the back of the couch. His heart is racing. The fine hairs on his neck stand at attention, hyper aware of Steve's proximity. They're racing towards something that's just coming into view for Paul. He isn't sure he's ready.  
  
“Don't-” he begs, his voice barely a whisper, but then Steve leans over, body angling in front of Paul's.

Paul closes his eyes and lets himself be kissed. Steve's lips are soft and pliant on his own and he  _sighs_  against Paul's mouth. That's all it takes. That sigh. Paul opens up to Steve, turning towards him on the couch, kissing him back. Steve's hands are fisted around the lapels of Paul's leather jacket. He's pulling him as he lies down, and Paul's dragged on top of him. He can feel every inch of Steve's body. He's touched Steve so casually, so easily for so many years.  
  
There was nothing casual about this.  
  
“You're hard,” he pants, breaking the kiss.  
  
“Yeah, so are you.” Steve's voice is low and husky. He presses his hips up against Paul and the pressure, even through all the layers of denim and cotton, makes his breath stutter.  
  
Paul kisses Steve again. He can't help himself. Every part of his body is urging itself to be closer, to be more. Steve lets go of his jacket and slides his hands underneath. He pushes it off Paul's shoulders and down his arms. It falls to the floor, forgotten. Then Steve's hands are on his lower back, holding him as he rolls his hips up – pressure and counter pressure. Paul grinds down against him. He feels like a teenager, rushing towards orgasm.  
  
It's all a lot, too fast. He breaks the kiss and props himself up, inadvertently rolling their hips together. Steve growls – honest-to-god, _growls_  - and Paul can't help but smile at that. Ridiculous man. It takes him a moment to realise that Paul has stopped.  
  
“What? Did you wanna stop? Oh god, is it not good?” The insecurity is surprising and sudden, and it twists something soft and vulnerable in Paul's chest. “It's been a long while for me and-”  
  
Paul covers Steve's mouth with his hand, stopping his chatter.  
  
“I don't- I don't know how to do this. I'm not- I've never-” he stutters, having a hard time explaining what he's feeling. Some English teacher he is. Steve removes one of his hands from Paul's ass – when had _those_  gotten there – and gently grips his wrist, removing his hand.  
  
“Me neither,” he says simply.  
  
“Yeah?” Paul asks, a smile creeping back onto his face. Knowing that he's not the only one out of his depth makes him feel a lot better.  
  
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I've been kinda hung up on somebody for a long time.”  
  
Paul is confused until Steve gives him that you're-an-idiot face. Oh! Steve strokes a thumb over Paul's pulse point. There are promises in Steve's eyes that make his heart race.  
  
“We'll figure it out together,” Steve says, then adds. “Right?”  
  
Oh, right – Sarah. The baby. He looks down at Steve and wonders how he could have ever thought of being with someone that didn't love this side of him. The blood in his veins runs Arsenal red. Always had, always would.  
  
“Right.”  
  
Steve's eyes glitter warmly. He kisses Paul's palm, his wrist, then pulls him back down to kiss his lips. There's less urgency this time. It's more relaxed. It's all so new, yet Paul wonders how he ever did without this. The rush of the win bubbling adrenaline through his veins and the swoop of his stomach as Steve's tongue slides against his own. What better way to celebrate than this?  
  
They'd figure it out. After all, Arsenal won today. Steve kissed him. It was the best bloody day of his life. Everything else would follow.

 


End file.
